Without You I'm Nothing
by TheQuiet
Summary: Beleaguered by marital problems post-DH, Harry travels back in time to finish his seventh year at Hogwarts. Will Headmaster Severus Snape be pleased to see him? Snarry. Slash. Time-Turner Fic.
1. Infatuation

_Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part._

- Captain Corelli's Mandolin (2001)

Chapter One

**Infatuation**

"Albus Severus," Harry said quietly, so that nobody but Ginny could hear, and she was tactful enough to pretend to be waving to Rose, who was now on the train, "you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew."

His youngest son looked up at him curiously.

"What do you mean, _bravest man_?"

Out of his depth, Harry knelt down and gave the boy a hug, attempting to avoid the awkward conversation.

"Who was he? I want to know more about him," Albus rambled on, a little too enthusiastically.

Harry grimaced as he saw Ginny stiffen next to him. She had never been partial to naming their third born after the controversial Potions Master.

"Severus Snape worked as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix," Harry explained shortly, "It is partly thanks to him that I survived the war."

"Wow," the eleven-year old remarked, amazed, "But dad, if Severus saved your life and he's the bravest man you ever knew, how is it that my first name is Albus? Why didn't you call me Severus Albus?"

"That is another story for another time," Ginny stepped in, visibly narked, "We wouldn't want you to miss the train, Al. Hurry up and board, dearest."

"Okay, but I want to hear all about Snape when I come home for Christmas!" the raven-haired boy yelled as he hopped on the train.

"Well, that's embarrassing," Ron snorted, casting Harry an amused glance.

"Shut up, Ron."

"I still can't believe you named your son after that greasy git, regardless of whether or not he was on our side or whether he fancied your mum. He was still a right jerk to you, Harry."

"While I appreciate your confusion Ron, you really don't know the half of it, and now is really not a good time to impart the rest," Harry said under his breath.

Ron's eyes widened silently. _The rest? _

"I swear, Harry, you had better be taking good care of my sister," Ron grunted, "If I get one more 3AM phone call… Let's just say you'd better start putting out, mate."

"My marital troubles are none of your business," Harry said heatedly, "And weren't we discussing Snape? What does my sex life have to do with Snape?"

Ron quirked his eyebrow just as Ginny returned from seeing the children off.

"Snape? You're _still_ talking about him? Honestly, could we please have one day where we don't discuss Severus Snape?" Ginny rolled her eyes, "If I would have known that by naming our son after him…"

"To honour the dead," Harry interrupted her snappily, "To honour the two headmasters of Hogwarts who died fighting Voldemort, I wanted to name our son Albus Severus. Was that too much to ask?"

"You know it wasn't," Ginny retorted, "If that's all it had been."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry replied defensively.

Ron shrugged his shoulders and then opened his mouth as if he were about to say something.

"Ron, stay out of it," Harry cut him off, "You two go on without me. I need to cool down."

Ginny snorted, "Has this spat about Snape got you that hot and bothered?"

"Ron, you best escort your sister to the car," Harry instructed his friend testily, "I'll see Hermione home."

"Fine. But she's my wife, you know," Ron reminded him, "If you so much as –"

"Stop, Ron. Just stop. Hermione's been my friend and nothing more since I was eleven. I'm not about to start making advances on her now. Merlin."

"I'll be home for dinner," Ron warned him, "Hermione's waiting in the Anglia. Tell her I want chips and sandwiches. No corned beef, though. Remember to tell her that. Tell her to have it ready for 5 o'clock sharp."

"I'm not sure what's worse. Having a male chauvinist for a brother or having a poof for a husband," Ginny huffed.

Glowering silently, Harry turned away and started walking towards the Ford Anglia.

Hermione greeted him with an empathetic smile as he knocked softly on the passenger's front side window.

"It's all a bit anticlimactic, isn't it?" she observed thoughtfully as she opened the door for him, "I remember when I used to think that the fight against Voldemort was the war to end all wars. Now we spend our days quarrelling over bills, child care and foodstuffs."

Harry nodded soberly as he got situated, "A different kind of hell."

"I often wonder if adult life has to be like this," Hermione continued, starting the engine, "If married life has to be like this. Back at Hogwarts, everything seemed possible, if only I could finish my studies and if only you could defeat Voldemort. I also remember _feeling_ so–"

"Feeling, yes," Harry agreed, "I miss that too. I almost long for the nights my scar used to burn. Merlin. If only I could… go back in time."

"You know you could, actually," Hermione reminded him in jest, "Magically speaking, that is…."

Harry looked at her expectantly, desperation in his eyes.

"Not that you could change anything… or save anyone," she added quickly, realizing she had fallen into a trap.

"I know you said you handed it in, but you don't happen to still have that old time turner, do you, Hermione?"

"What if I do? You're not seriously thinking of going back there, are you?"

"Hermione, please, I have to go back. Lately, I've been feeling as if that's what I'm meant to do, you know? As if I've already done it. You know how those things work, right?"

"What do you plan to do?" Hermione queried him, "What time do you want to go back to?"

"I want to attend my seventh year at Hogwarts," Harry blurted out, as if he had been planning it for ages, "It's ingenious. I'd never risk running into myself until the end of the year."

"You want to go back to the darkest year in Hogwarts' history? But why? Is life with Ginny really that bad?"

"Do you have the time turner?" Harry ignored her questions.

"Yes, but, Harry – I don't know," Hermione worried aloud, "It seems rather dangerous to send you back there."

"How so? Voldemort is dead. I'm alive. Nothing can change that. You said so yourself."

"You'd see Snape again," Hermione mused, "He'd be headmaster."

"I know," Harry said quietly.

"It would be different, knowing what you know now," she continued pensively.

"Yes," Harry said shortly.

"Strange. You never did complete your seventh year," Hermione realized, "And yet somehow you're an Auror… How_ did_ you swing that exactly?"

Harry snorted, "You know how, but hand over the time-turner, already. It would do me good to revise my Potions."

Hermione summarily landed the Anglia. Through the thick fog, Harry noticed a grey castle looming in the distance.

"We're…at Hogwarts? 'Mione?"

"Rose forgot her broomstick. I thought I'd deliver it to her personally," Hermione explained, popping the trunk, "Oh, and – here."

She tossed the time-turner to Harry, who had followed her outside into the chilly late summer evening.

"I knew it was only a matter of time before you'd ask me for it, though I thought it would be years ago. Ginny is always telling me how you seem to live in the past."

"Whinging, more like."

"Is it true, Harry? What Ginny says?"

"That I live in the past? Well, that is the plan," he smirked, donning the time-turner.

"You have to come back, Harry," Hermione intoned seriously, "You have to go back to her and face the music at some point. It's inevitable."

"That remains to be seen. Unless you have some newfound appreciation for divination, Hermione, I think you'll agree that you can't predict the future," Harry replied puckishly.

Smirking despite herself, Hermione started off towards the castle.

"Be safe, Harry!" she called to him, mildly exasperated.

Harry was already turning the time-piece, watching the flurry of seasons pass before his eyes.

Relief flooded over him as he found himself staring up at the castle on that late twentieth-century September night before Voldemort's fall from power.

All that mattered to Harry now was that somewhere in that enduring fortress, Severus Snape roamed, his black robes billowing: alive.


	2. Imagination

Chapter Two

**Imagination**

"Who goes there? Yeh can' be standin' there at this time of night without permission from the Hogwarts' staff!" a familiar voice resounded across the purple moor.

Harry turned around quickly, grinning widely.

"Hagrid! Boy, am I glad to see you!"

"Who are yeh? Is this some sorta joke?" Hagrid squinted in the dim light, trying to identify the man standing in front of him.

"It's Harry. Harry Potter? You remember me, don't you?"

The grounds keeper did a double take.

"Codswallop. Yeh kind of look like Harry Potter, 'cept yeh look 'bout 15 years older than he is. Nice try, yeh buffoon. Tell me who yeh really are or else!"

Hagrid tried to make himself look intimidating, not wanting to have to threaten the intruder with alerting Severus Snape or the Carrows.

"Oh. Sorry, Hagrid. I'd forgotten that I'd taken an Aging Potion so I wouldn't be recognized," Harry lied, realizing he could no longer pass for a seventeen year old, "It's really me! I swear. If you don't believe me… Hagrid, I know that you hide your wand in your pink umbrella. You once had a dragon named Norbert, but you had to send him to Romania after he got too big. You had a thing for Madame Maxime of Beauxbatons but that never worked out. You get drunk in your hut every-"

"Wha' yeh tryin' to do, Harry, get me sacked?" Hagrid chuckled, "I believe yeh now, but what yeh doin' here? Thought you weren' comin' back to Hogwarts? Yeh know Snape's headmaster now and the Carrows are here. Are yeh barking mad?"

"It's a long story, Hagrid, but this is where I have to be this year. Listen, would it be possible for you to take me to Professor Slughorn? To get my age back to, uh, normal? The potion doesn't seem to be wearing off properly."

"All righ' Harry, if that's what yeh need. Not sure how we're gonna keep the Death Eaters from killin' yeh. It's at times like this I wish Dumbledore was still…But Snape took care of that, didn' he? We shoulda listened to yeh, Harry, when you told us to watch out for him, the…the… evil bastard."

"Thanks Hagrid," Harry suppressed a nervous laugh. He felt oddly at ease in this turbulent time, knowing how it all ended.

* * *

"Potter?" Horace Slughorn ventured, disbelievingly, "I daresay that fighting He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named doesn't agree with you, my boy. You've aged considerably this past summer! Grey hairs already, I see."

"My hair is not turning grey!" Harry sputtered indignantly. Then, looking at himself in his former professor's mirror, realized it to be true, "You wouldn't happen to have a de-aging potion, would you, professor? Come to think of it, a drop or two might do me some good. Just to clear up the greys."

Slughorn raised his eyebrow, contemplating the perilous request lazily.

"Oh, what the hell! Why not, boy? There's a decanter of it in that cupboard, just over there," the older man gave in, "But don't indulge too much, Potter. I'm no babysitter, I daresay!"

Harry smirked, realizing that Slughorn was clearly on his way to being smashed.

"What brings you back to Hogwarts, Potter? I can't say I'm displeased to see my star pupil, but the circumstances are less than ideal…" he drawled on, as Harry helped himself to enough De-aging potion to turn his biological clock back to his teenaged years.

"Oh, you know, sir," Harry prevaricated, "Thought I should finish what I started, that's all."

"If Amycus Carrow and his crew don't kill you off first…" Slughorn reminded him sloppily, "You might graduate this year. Then again, Professor Snape…he'd never allow it. He's Headmaster now, you know. He'll expel you in two seconds flat, I daresay, and feed you to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named for dinner."

"I'll take my chances, thanks," Harry said tersely, admiring his youthful physiognomy in the mirror, "Where might I find Professor Snape on such a night, anyway?"

"Oh, likely in his dungeon quarters, doing Merlin knows what! I'd stay away from Snape if I were you, Potter. He murdered Professor Dumbledore, as you'll recall. Merlin knows what he'll do next. Selfishly, the only reason I don't abandon my post is out of fear that he'll do away with me too."

"This might sound strange, but I don't think you need to worry about that, sir. Enjoy your brandy. See you in class tomorrow!"

"Yes, Potter, the Dark Lord willing…."

* * *

Ever since the end of the Second Wizarding War, Harry had dreamt of wandering the tenebrous corridors of Hogwarts Castle. Now here he was: brazen, out-of-bed, seventeen again.

His first thought was to go rouse Snape, as in one of his many reckless wet dreams. But, as much as it felt like one, this was not a dream. If he planned to last the year, he needed to exercise more prudence and restraint.

Reluctantly, Harry headed up the Grand Staircase to Gryffindor Tower. Tomorrow was going to be quite a day, and he would need his rest. He still wasn't sure what he'd say to Snape once he got him in private. Harry wondered what Severus would do once he saw him there in the Great Hall at breakfast, sitting amongst his classmates as if nothing had ever happened. Would he take Harry aside and explain everything? Show him the memories he relayed to Harry before dying the first time? And as far as Voldemort and the Carrows were concerned, Harry hoped it was safe to assume they couldn't kill him, seeing as he had already survived. Time travelling was tricky business. Suddenly, he wished he had asked Hermione more questions. He wondered where the three of them initially were on this night, tried to remember the exact spot in the English countryside they had set up their tent under the trembling Northern twilight.

There was one thing Harry certainly hadn't given much thought to before deciding to go back in time…

"Harry! What the bloody hell are you doing here? I thought you were with Ron and 'Mione!"

Ginny rushed over to him in the Common Room, cornering him by the fireplace.

"Harry? Is it really you?"

"Yeah, I guess I changed my mind. Decided I wanted to take my seventh year, for, uh, no reason in particular…um. Yeah."

_Fuck_, he thought miserably, _Should've slept in the dungeons_.

"Oh, Harry! I always knew you'd come back to me. How perfect," Ginny crooned, taking him by the hand and leading him up the steps to the Girls' Dormitory where their female classmates were ensconced in their beds.

Harry grimaced as the witch dropped her robes. It was all coming back to him now.

"I'm going to cast a Silencing Charm," the red-head grinned lewdly, "You can forget about being terrorized by Voldemort tonight, my love. Because it's _me_ who is going to make you scream."


	3. Correlation

Chapter Three

**Correlation**

"What do you mean Potter has returned to Hogwarts?" Minerva McGonagall furtively hounded Slughorn as they were the first to arrive at the Great Hall for breakfast, "You're not in earnest Horace! Please say it isn't so."

"Ah, but it's true, Minerva. I swear it! Truth be told I did have a few drinks last night but I've never been one to hallucinate."

"I simply can't believe it, Horace! I mean, what will Severus do when he sees Potter is here? Does he already know, I wonder?"

"From what I gathered, Potter only arrived late last night. He spoke as if he intended to attend all his classes as usual."

"As usual!" Minerva huffed, "I would hardly call the circumstances usual!"

"He's lucky the Carrows don't take their breakfast in the Great Hall, in any case," Horace mused.

"No, but Severus does! I wonder… should we try to distract him? Keep him away for this morning?" McGonagall speculated anxiously.

"Keep who away?" an ominous voice intoned from behind the apprehensive professors.

"Why, Alecto and Amycus, Severus," Horace covered for his colleague, "We rather thought Hogwarts could do without public Cruciatus sessions for one day."

"Do not lie to me, Slughorn," Snape spat, "I clearly heard McGonagall say "him" not "them". You weren't by any chance, talking about _yours truly_? Because if so, I must remind you, I am the headmaster of this school and insubordination will not be tolerated."

"We know that, Severus," Minerva said quickly in an attempt to save face, "It was a slip of the tongue, I assure you."

"Was it now?" Snape murmured dangerously as cowed students started to mill into the shadowy hall.

"Yes, it was," the elderly witch was adamant.

"Oh come now, headmaster. Minerva simply made a mistake. It should be water under the bridge now. We're all getting older you know and our minds are going…"

Rolling his eyes, Severus turned to face the arched entrance doors. Loitering there on the stony threshold was a sable-haired, ashen-skinned waif Snape would recognize anywhere. The young man's luminous jade glare penetrated him through round, undersized spectacles. Insufferable. Impossible.

Severus' face fell, momentarily betraying himself.

It couldn't be.

Harry Potter, about to be his and the Dark Lord's newest spoil of war.

Inexplicably, the stupid boy began to smile up at him as if he didn't mind it at all.

No, this beaming imp could not be Potter. He must be a lookalike, a product of Polyjuice Potion. Perhaps he was one of the seven Potters, sent to Hogwarts by the Order of the Phoenix in order to disorient the Death Eaters.

Still, this had not been part of the plan. And it had been _his _plan.

Had he come to kill him then, to avenge Dumbledore's death? Snape discreetly fingered his wand beneath his robes.

A hush fell over the crowd as others began to take notice of the seemingly impending showdown.

"Severus," Minerva spoke up shrilly, afraid for Potter's and not the headmaster's safety, "Don't act rashly now…"

"You knew he was here and you didn't tell me," Snape said flatly with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"To be frank, headmaster," McGonagall continued, "Did you really expect us to come running to you the moment we heard Potter was on the premises?"

"Yes," Severus rejoined snidely, "Count yourselves lucky that the Carrows don't take their meals in the Great Hall."

Minerva cast Horace an equivocal look. Slughorn breathed a sigh of relief as Severus went about buttering a piece of toast in a noncommittal fashion.

Snape had to stop himself from shuddering as he pretended to busy himself with his daily breakfast ritual. Staying alive had always been a chore to him, but even more so since June.

Supernatural did not begin to describe Potter's unsolicited smile that hazy September morning. And all of a sudden, without warning, Severus was once again confronted with that inadmissible truth: Potter had to die sometime soon, by the Dark Lord's wand. But, did he have to let it happen like Dumbledore had suggested? What was in it for him? Did he really care about the "greater good" after all? Or was it really Potter he was most interested in protecting? Merlin forbid.

Alerting Voldemort and getting the whole ordeal over with had crossed his mind. However, now that Potter had presented himself to him, in the flesh, so willingly, so suddenly, Severus felt sick.

None of it made sense to him. Not Potter's untimely return and certainly not his own unexpectedly vicious aversion to the idea of the boy's death.

Severus hazarded a glance in Potter's direction. The impudent prat had not taken his green eyes off of him.

"Keeping your eye on the prize, are you, Potter?" Snape muttered to himself, pushing his plate aside.

Minerva jumped, spilling pumpkin juice over her oatmeal and practically wetting herself.

Meanwhile, Severus rose from the head table and made his way down among the students. Potter appeared disturbingly unruffled as Snape approached him.

The boy had taken his usual place at the Gryffindor table. The wanton Weasley girl was practically sitting in his lap, spoon-feeding the seventeen year-old cereal. The thought crossed Snape's mind as to how to get rid of the red-headed parasite. He needed Potter alone, somehow, though that didn't seem feasible. All eyes were on them. The hall was so soundless that morning one could have heard a wand drop.

"Good morning Severus," Harry greeted him warmly, "It's so good to see you again."

Snape nearly lost his breakfast. Did the idiotic teenager have no sense of self-preservation? Had this same boy not been attempting to escape himself and a group of Death Eaters on his birthday only a few months prior? What could have possibly changed since then?

"What must I do to impress upon you, Potter, that you are no longer welcome here?" Severus intoned softly.

It was then that Harry's grin finally evanesced and it looked like the overgrown urchin was about to cry.

Snape couldn't take it. He could take a lot of things, but he couldn't take this. He couldn't let the others see him this way. _Snivellus_.

He swept out of the Great Hall, more troubled and unhinged than he had felt in the entirety of the grisly horror story that was his life.

Tears flowing perilously, Severus took refuge in an Entrance Hall broom cupboard, took out his wand and began polishing it compulsively, quietly repeating Potter's given name over and over to himself many times.


	4. Oversaturation

_WARNING_: This chapter delves into BDSM and is sexually explicit. Also, just to let you know that this story, on occasion, will be falling into the genre of "Porn **WITH** Plot", haha. If this makes you uncomfortable, I'd advise you not to read this instalment. It's hard not to be kinky though when writing Snarry. For those that don't mind, ENJOY!

Chapter Four

**Oversaturation**

"Are you trying to get yourself killed, Harry?" Neville Longbottom was sincerely distressed, "You're brave enough to come back here, let alone talking to Snape like that! You're lucky he didn't hex you, or worse. Though that was brilliant sarcasm! So good to see you, ha! But, you know he's probably off telling He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named that you're here right now!"

"I find that highly unlikely, Neville, but thank you for your concern," Harry replied, unperturbed. It hadn't taken him long to get over his disappointment with Severus for his indecorous reaction to his inopportune homecoming. What else could he have expected, given the dire circumstances? Besides, Snape did not know the real reason for his return to Hogwarts. Severus did not know that he came from the future, with both magnificent and melancholic tidings. But soon, he _would_ know. At some point, Harry would explain everything to his former professor. First, however, Harry wanted to bask in the titillating delight of his pseudo-seventeen year-old existence. This was, after all, what he had come for. To see Snape's reaction to his being there, juvenile and jeopardized. What lengths would he go to save him from the Carrows? From Voldemort? Morbid curiosity had certainly gotten the best of him.

"Hurry up and finish your pumpkin juice, Harry," Ginny nagged, "We've got to get to class."

"Lay off, Gin, would you? Come to think of it, I don't want to catch Spattergroit, so maybe we should keep more of a distance between us…." Harry groaned.

"Don't be silly, Harry. Ron's, uh, the one with Spattergroit, not me! And after what we did last night, what would it matter?"

"I only thought of it now. Listen, I just don't want to take my chances, all right? I can't afford to fall ill this year, for obvious reasons."

"Oh, all right. We don't have class together anyway. I have Potions first. You'll have to look off Neville's schedule."

In a huff, Ginny left the Great Hall with her schoolbooks under her arm.

"We'd better hurry, Harry. We've got Muggle Studies with Alecto Carrow and I don't think I'd like to find out what she does to students who arrive late," Neville wrung his hands.

Pumpkin juice spilled out of Harry's nostrils as he struggled not to laugh. Was he really that mad that he would attend Alecto Carrow's class? What would happen if he showed up? Would Snape try to stop him?

Only so many things could happen, Harry decided, knowing how it all ended. Most importantly, he couldn't die. And whatever didn't kill him would only make him stronger, right?

Downing the rest of the pulpy orange beverage, Harry joined Neville at the Great Hall's entrance. He wondered where Snape had gone following their previous encounter. Why hadn't he expelled him immediately or requested a private meeting in his office? Perhaps he really was conferring with his fellow Death Eaters as to the appropriate plan of action. He hoped not. He likely couldn't die, but nothing ruled out the Cruciatus. It certainly could prove to be a physically painful day.

"Oi! Potter!"

"You weren't going to go skipping off to class without saying hello! That'd be impolite."

A cacophony of obnoxious voices called out behind him. It was Crabbe and Goyle.

Terrified, Neville took off running to the first floor classroom.

"Come on, Harry! Don't let them catch you. Hurry! I'll save you a seat in class!"

In all his wisdom, Harry wasn't so easily scared off.

"Hello gentlemen," he said smugly, "How were your summers?"

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, dumbfounded, as they lumbered over to meet their adversary.

"You ought not to speak to us like that, Potter! Don't you know your place?" Crabbe spat.

"Yeah, your rightful place at this school, you filthy half-blood! More like six feet under!" Goyle added.

"Locomotor Mortis! Stupefy!" Harry summarily stopped his opponents in their tracks. He finished them off with a slug vomiting charm, "That's Head of the Auror Office to you!"

"Head of the Auror Office, my foot! I've never heard such awful bullshit, Potter, not even coming from you," Draco Malfoy remarked derisively, "Who the bloody hell do you think you are? Do you honestly think you'll survive the day?"

Harry kept his hand on his wand, but was hesitant to use force against Malfoy, knowing that he would later change sides.

"No, you're right. I'm not head of the Auror Office yet, but I will be," Harry conceded smoothly.

Draco snorted, "Rubbish, Potter. I almost feel sorry for you and your delusions of grandeur. You'll never make it."

"We'll see," Harry replied shortly.

"INCARCEROUS!" a strident female voice echoed through the Entrance Hall, and out of the blue, Harry found himself bound in coarse tan ropes.

"What the –" Draco started, shocked by Alecto's expediency in making Potter her political prisoner.

"Damn it," Harry exclaimed woefully, the wind blown out of his sails.

"Well done Draco! Well done Draco!" Alecto Carrow cackled, apparently overjoyed, "How did you ever manage to lure Potter here so early in the semester? Today's class shall be more entertaining than I ever could have imagined!"

"Uh, great?" Draco replied, mildly embarrassed by his stout professor's undeserving praise.

"RENNERVATE!" she quickly freed Crabbe and Goyle, while leaving Harry tied up pathetically next to them.

"Crabbe. Goyle. Bring our hostage to the classroom and stand him up front, if you please," Alecto crooned with a sadistic sweetness redolent of Dolores Umbridge.

"This'll teach you Potter," Goyle sniggered, helping Crabbe pick up the scrawny Gryffindor.

"You could have used magic, you dimwits," Draco rolled his eyes at his friends' idiocy.

"No matter, Draco. This is Muggle Studies after all," Alecto simpered, marching ahead in ruthless determination, "Who knows? We might even forgo the Cruciatus curse for today in favour of something more, shall we say, 'hands on'?"

* * *

Ten minutes later, Severus emerged from the broom cupboard, drained of his prior cocktail of grief and lust. He had been so preoccupied with his activities therein that he did not hear the commotion going on outside.

"Why, headmaster!" Filch called out, "What were you doing in my broom cupboard?"

"Argus, how long have you been standing there?" Snape queried in sheepish defeat.

"Not very long, sir. I was just about to go in there to get a few rags."

"I wouldn't," Snape said quickly, "I've just discovered that students have been using it as a hiding place for –"

"This closet smells of sex, headmaster! Would you like me to sniff out the culprits?"

"No, Argus, that's quite all right. I have it under control," Severus muttered awkwardly, leaving the area. He needed to speak to Minerva at once. If Potter were to stay at Hogwarts for any length of time, the castle would need to be secured. That meant casting a Confundus charm of some sort on every single student and staff member. Under no circumstances could news of Potter's presence leave the castle until Snape had decided what to do with the foolish lad.

He found McGonagall in her classroom, instructing a group of second-year Hufflepuffs on how to transfigure mice into teacups.

"Honestly, Minerva, at a time like this!" Snape admonished her strangely, "When are they ever going to use that pointless spell?"

Minerva rolled her eyes, flippant. As if she was going to listen to the wizard who killed Albus Dumbledore!

"We need to secure the castle," Severus continued on, ignoring his colleague's rebellious demeanour, "You're going to need to confund every last one of your Gryffindors, save Potter. The Hufflepuffs too. I want this kept between us."

"And to what effect shall I confund the masses?" McGonagall responded wryly.

"We need to ensure that no owls go home, or to the Daily Prophet, or to anywhere or anyone else that let slip that Harry Potter is in this castle," Snape said seriously, "Implant false memories if you must."

"Why should it matter to you if others know Potter is here?" Minerva snapped, "You want him dead, don't you? I'm surprised you haven't served him up on a plate to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named already!"

"It is not yet time," Severus explained mysteriously, "For our young Mr. Potter to meet his maker. I thought you'd be happy about this."

"I suppose I am," Minerva admitted, "Though I'm feeling somewhat confounded myself, at the moment."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to any other staff members, Minerva. I'd like this to stay between us," Snape implored.

McGonagall's expression softened.

"Would you like me to confund the Slytherins and Ravenclaws too?"

"Yes, I was going to take care of them myself, but that would be very much appreciated," Severus sounded relieved, "I trust you to do this, Minerva. To the best of your ability."

McGonagall looked at Snape thoughtfully for a moment.

"I promise I'll explain all this to you, one day," he whispered.

Minerva pursed her lips.

"I'll do as you say, today, Severus Snape. For Potter's sake. But you're dead wrong if you think I care to hear your side of the story after how you betrayed Albus. Oh, and by the way, all this is for naught if Alecto Carrow has her way. You do realize the seventh-year Gryffindors and Slytherins currently have Muggle Studies?"

"Yes, but Potter wouldn't be so stupid as to –" Snape began, but then remembered whom he was talking about, and was off like a shot.

* * *

"Have you brought the said implements, Filch?" Alecto inquired excitedly, having enlisted the squib's assistance with Potter's public chastisement, "I was not aware that Muggles had their own instruments of torture!"

"Yes, m'am," Argus replied, practically drooling at the thought of Potter getting his just desserts, "I've brought the cane, cat o'nine tails and tawse up from the dungeon! I've been waiting for an opportunity to whip a student for quite some time now."

"Fascinating. Class, your resident squib has just schooled me in the art of Muggle corporal punishment. No match to the Cruciatus, I'm sure. Still, let us see how these pathetic Muggle devices measure up, shall we?"

Tethered at the front of the class, Harry waited anxiously for his fate to be decided. For all the years of neglect he had suffered at the Dursley's, he had never once been beaten in his waking life. His erotic dreams were quite another story. That being said, this was no clandestine reverie. Sure, he might be a visitor from the future, but he was still here in front of his peers, about to be flogged. It would become a matter of public record. All those years afterward, this had already happened. How had he ever looked Neville Longbottom in the face again? How could he have known? Merlin, time travel was tricky business.

"Strip!" Alecto cried suddenly, upon conferring with Filch as to how the strokes were to be administered.

"That's right, Potter. You're to be thrashed on the bare," Argus reiterated gleefully.

"You sick bastards! This is how you get your jollies, isn't it?" Neville spoke up, his voice shaking.

"I'd advise you to shut it, Mr. Longbottom, unless you'd like to show your classmates how long your bottom really is!"

The Slytherins hissed with laughter.

"Now that just wasn't fair," Draco Malfoy stifled a chuckle, "Longbottom, what a hoot."

"I can't," Harry began, humiliated, "I can't move… to take my clothes off."

"Of course you can't! You're tied up!" Alecto howled amusedly, "Draco, would you do the honours?"

"Er…what?"

"I am giving you permission to undress Potter."

"Can't someone else do it? I'm not his nanny."

Filch raised his hand and started waving it in the air.

Alecto ignored him and lazily cast a disrobing charm.

Harry swiftly turned to face the wall to hide his throbbing member, his naked backside on display instead.

"Over the desk!" Alecto instructed him from the back of the room.

Harry bent over, prostrating himself.

"All right, Filch, show us how it's done so we can move on to more effective magical discipline," Alecto was actually beginning to look bored.

Argus snatched the tawse and approached his quivering victim.

"Well then, Potter. It's about time. You're about to find out what happens to naughty boys who don't follow the rules."

Harry clenched his buttocks. He couldn't believe this was happening. He was in his late thirties, for crying out loud. He was beginning to regret coming back. At least by staying away he could have kept his dignity.

At the precise moment Filch made contact with Potter's uncovered arse, creating a resounding smacking noise, Severus burst into the classroom.

It was an arresting sight. Potter in the nude, about to be whipped. Snape had imagined hundreds of horrific scenarios taking place in this classroom, but he never thought Alecto Carrow would join forces with Filch. Now what was he supposed to do? Anger boiled inside him at Potter for having put him in such an impracticable situation. Lust was more of an afterthought, but nevertheless present as Argus asked him if he would like to partake in Harry's old-school punishment.

"I might indulge in a stroke or two," Severus said silkily.

Harry hardened abruptly at the sound of Snape's voice. If Severus hit him, it might send him over the edge. He didn't want that. Well, he did want that. If he were to be honest, that's what he had come for. But he didn't want it to happen there, in front of everybody else! It could ruin him. It could ruin them both.

"No please," he spoke up in a small voice, "Please don't."

"Please don't, what, Potter?"

"Please don't smack me, sir," Harry said hoarsely, struggling to keep it all in, "I don't know if I'll be able to take it."

Misunderstanding him, Severus very nearly guffawed. Unable to contain himself, Draco laughed out loud, clearly enjoying himself.

"Stupid boy! You come back to this school and don't expect to walk away a little battered and bruised, let alone alive?"

With that, Snape took the cane and whacked Harry hard. The seventh-year cried out in excruciating pain as his erection smashed into the side of the oak desk. It took all his strength to keep himself from cuming right there and then.

Thinking that he had caused some critical injury to Potter, Severus was horrified with himself.

"EVERYBODY, OUT! NOW!" he bellowed, "Staff _and_ students."

"But headmaster!" Argus protested.

"Thank you, Filch. The rest of Potter's punishment will be doled out in private. NOW LEAVE BEFORE I LOSE MY TEMPER."

The silence was deafening in the moments that followed when it was just Snape and Harry left in the room. Then, suddenly, Severus saw it: the stream of milky white ejaculate trickling down Potter's bare leg. After that, it just kept coming. Yellow, now. Oh, the horror. What had he done?

Profoundly embarrassed, Harry started to sob.

"Please do-" he began brokenly as Snape started to untie his arms and legs.

"Please don-" he tried again as Snape cast a healing and cleaning charm over his shaky limbs.

"Please don't," he continued to cry as Snape helped him back into his robes.

Harry completely broke down. He couldn't believe what had just happened. This wasn't how he had pictured his first intimate encounter with his former Potions Master. This was absolutely horrible. Maybe some fantasies were better when they weren't acted out. Maybe some loves were better left unrequited. Maybe there were some times and places that should never be gone back to.

"I promise I won't strike you, Potter. Not ever again," Severus said gravely.

"Please don't expel me," Harry expanded tearfully, "Hogwarts is my home. I'm sorry I came back. I just had to!"

"I have not," Snape began stoically, "I have not been very good to you, Potter. You would be better off elsewhere."

"But you're the only one who understands."

"You're mistaken. I understand nothing about you, Potter. Stop babbling. You're being ridiculous."

"I know," Harry whispered dejectedly, looking at the floor, "I'm sorry, I…"

"Silence."

Suddenly, Harry felt warm arms wrap around his small shoulders and his tortured head being pressed against a strong, wide chest. An orgasm might have been what he had come for, but this embrace had been what he truly needed.

Severus had no clue why he was doing it, why he was hugging the Boy-Who-Lived, but he felt deep down that it needed to be done. Like it had been a long time coming. In reality, it had been longer than he ever could have imagined.

Harry sighed contentedly, nuzzling deeper.

"Is that a wand in your pocket, Professor Snape, or are you just as happy to see me as I am to see you?"


	5. Spleen

Chapter Five

**Spleen**

Carefully pushing Harry away, Severus took his wand out of his pocket and put it on the desk in front of them.

"You know what this is, Potter?"

"Your wand, sir," Harry tried his best to suppress an insolent smile.

"Dumbledore's murder weapon," Snape reminded him grimly.

Harry locked eyes with the menacing headmaster. The obsidian orbs flickered for a moment.

"Now, humour me, Potter," Severus continued on sarcastically, "Why would Dumbledore's Golden Boy be so overjoyed to see the man who killed his cherished mentor?"

"It's complicated," Harry mumbled, diverting his gaze.

"I'm sure it is," Snape said darkly.

"My turn," Harry rejoined, gaining confidence, "Why is it that Dumbledore's murderer just got finished cuddling with his victim's protégée?"

"You wish!" Severus exclaimed heatedly, "Potter. Let me make one thing quite clear. I said I would never subject you to another hiding. And that much is true. But you _mistake me_ if you think I'll always be around to save your sorry arse."

"You'd do anything for me," Harry protested reverently.

"Oh, don't think you are so precious!" Snape breathed, evidently exasperated.

"I'm late for Potions."

"Of course you are. Get out of my sight, then!" Severus waved him off.

Harry emerged from the Muggle Studies classroom into the castle corridor, grinning from ear to ear. Ghastly didn't begin to describe what had happened to him that morning, but all things said and done, he felt _hot_. He was definitely making progress with Snape. The man had put his arms around him for Merlin's sake, whether or not he'd admit it in retrospect!

Gryffindor's most popular student leisurely made his way to Slughorn's classroom. Horace, of course, didn't mind that Harry was late. Still, Harry caught his Potions professor looking at him strangely, almost sympathetically, throughout the first part of the lesson.

"All right then, Potter, eh?" he inquired as Harry set to work brewing a batch of veritaserum, "Professor Snape wasn't too harsh with you, was he now? I suppose things have changed since last year. Until recently, corporal punishment had been banned at Hogwarts, at least since the late 1980s. These are hard times with the Death Eaters here. Hard times, indeed. Don't tell anyone I said that though."

"Who told you about…?" Harry wondered aloud.

"I couldn't help overhearing," Horace admitted uncomfortably, "Like I said, I do hope you're all right. I have some healing potion in my stores if you'd like…"

"Thanks, but I've been through worse, I suppose. I'll survive," Harry assured him, purposefully neglecting to mention that Severus had already mended his bruises.

"You're a valiant one, Potter," Slughorn said proudly, "You didn't make the shelf for nothing, my boy. Well, it looks like we're out of time for today! Bottle up your veritaserum. You never know when you might need it. Off to Transfiguration with you!"

* * *

All Minerva McGonagall could do was to shake her head in disbelief as she saw Harry make his way into her classroom unscathed.

"Mr. Potter. Might I have a word?" Minerva asked, flabbergasted.

"Yes, of course, professor," Harry smiled sweetly at his head of house.

Once she had him out in the hall, McGonagall dispensed with the pretence that this was a regular school day at Hogwarts.

"It's a wonder Severus and the Carrows haven't got their hands on you yet," she put it bluntly.

"Well," Harry began coyly, "I can't say I didn't have a few run ins already this morning."

"Then it's a wonder that you lived to tell the tale!" Minerva huffed, "What were you ever thinking, Potter, coming back here?"

"I couldn't stand to leave Hogwarts," Harry explained, "It's like… the theatre of the best and worst years of my life. I couldn't leave it behind, like in a book never to be opened again."

"That's a rather melodramatic way of putting it, Mr. Potter," McGonagall was unimpressed, "Then again, the circumstances in which we find ourselves these days are nothing short of histrionic, so who am I to blame you, of all people? My, my."

"Don't worry, professor," Harry put a patronizing hand on Minerva's shoulder, "I've got it all taken care of."

"Don't worry!?" McGonagall fumed, "Potter, you're not thinking straight! It's only September and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named basically has Hogwarts in his grasp already. The only thing standing between you and Riddle is Severus Snape."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Harry commented placidly.

"For reasons I fail to comprehend, Severus has, for the time being, ordered me to confund the entire student body to keep them from communicating your whereabouts to the outside world. He seems to want you alive," Minerva shook her head, mistrusting.

"Yes, that makes sense, I suppose," Harry beamed with satisfaction.

"Makes sense?!" Minerva could not believe her star pupil's nonchalance, "Mr. Potter, the only state of affairs in which Professor Snape's desire to protect you makes any sense is one in which he has received directions to deliver you to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named unharmed so that he might execute you personally!"

Harry shrugged. She did, after all, have a point. That was how it had unfolded the first time. Snape's main concern in his final moments had been to fetch Harry and bring him to Voldemort. At least, that is how it had seemed.

"Trust me, professor," Harry sounded oddly confident, "Things have a way of working out."

Again, Minerva shook her head.

"The time has not yet come, Potter, for uttering complacent adages. We're at war within these walls. The sooner you realize that, the better, I'm afraid. Nothing will ever be the same after Albus …" she trailed off momentarily, "I always trusted Professor Snape you know, before. I was as irrational then as you're being now. I thought he was a good wizard. I sincerely thought he was on our side."

"I never did," Harry remarked, "I used to hate him."

"And you don't hate him now?" McGonagall gasped, unbelieving, "Potter, if I didn't know any better….the way you and Severus are behaving so strangely… I'd think that the feud going on between you was tantamount to a lovers' quarrel."

Harry nearly choked on his own laughter.

"Well, thank you for not bothering to deny it!" Minerva breathed heavily, obviously still annoyed, "The way you two are acting is absolutely nonsensical. I wouldn't be surprised to discover that you are both under the Imperius curse. The only difference between Severus and yourself is that I actually care about what happens to you, Mr. Potter, which is why I must cut this conversation short. Now, if you wouldn't mind bunking off today, I have some quick work to do in your absence if this castle is going to be secure by sundown. Go find yourself a broom closet somewhere and hide out, for Merlin's sake, Potter. You never know when Severus is going to overturn his decision to harbour you."

"Fine," Harry whined, disappointed that his own head of house would not permit him to attend her class.

For the first time since he had returned to Hogwarts that fateful autumn, Harry felt lonely as he walked the vacant corridors. Yet when he locked himself in that dank first floor broom cupboard with the intention to jerk off to the degrading memory of what had transpired earlier and be done with it, he immediately apprehended from the faint sound of panting in the surrounding darkness that he was anything but alone.


	6. Libertine

Chapter 6

**Libertine**

"Hey you! Wait up! I need to talk to you!" Draco Malfoy's voice sounded across the Hogwarts viaduct. It was late October and the mountain air chilled Harry to the bone as he walked on ahead, his slender hands seeking warmth in the pocket of his coffee brown hoodie.

"For the millionth time, I said STOP!" the blonde-haired boy continued to harass him, "I'm so sick of following you around, you arrogant prat!"

That germane insult caught Harry's attention in a way nothing in the past month and a half had. Finally, he stopped in the Paved Courtyard and let Draco catch up to him.

"I need to talk to you," Malfoy repeated, catching his breath.

"So you keep saying, but do you even know who I am?" Harry asked coldly.

"Of course I know who you are!" Draco spat, looking his famous classmate up and down.

"Really? What's my name then?" Harry quizzed him, although he already knew the answer.

"I know it," Malfoy began defensively, "Of course I know it! You're…you're… you! Well you know who you are! You!"

"Shock horror!" Harry's voice was cutting, "Didn't really need you to tell me I'm myself, Malfoy."

Draco, like the rest of the student body, had been confunded to effectively expunge the name "Harry Potter" from his vocabulary. This included the ability to describe Harry's physical or biographical characteristics to another person in order to identify him through other means. However, all students continued to recognize Harry as their classmate, although they had been somewhat desensitized to the extent of his importance in the wizarding world.

"Shut up…you!" Malfoy said irritably, "You know how it's been."

"Oh yes," Harry replied grumpily, "I know how it's been. I didn't need you to tell me that either."

Forgetting about his frustration over not remembering Harry's name nearly as efficiently as he had forgotten the name itself, Draco carried on noncommittally.

"Professor Snape wants to speak with you."

"Fine. Then why doesn't he do it?"

"He wanted me to find you, to bring you to him."

"And why would he want to see _me_?" Harry retorted spitefully, "After what he did to _you_?"

"Is this about what happened in the broom cupboard?"

Harry snorted.

"I wonder! I mean, after walking in on him giving you a Portuguese wand polish –"

"Shh! Do you have to say it so loudly?" Malfoy said in a hushed tone, "To be honest, it's none of your damn business. I have needs, you know."

"Malfoy, look. I don't really care about your 'needs', as you call them, all right?" Harry looked away.

"Whatever. Sorry I mentioned it. Listen, Severus really wants to speak to you. He keeps sending me to fetch you. But you keep running away from me."

Harry shook his head peevishly, then sighed.

"Let's stop by the Great Hall for dinner first. I'm hungry."

* * *

"So why is it that Snape wants to speak with me, again?" Harry inquired, tucking his half-empty vial of veritaserum back into his pocket.

Draco took a healthy gulp of his butterbeer and sat back comfortably in his seat across from his archrival.

"To be honest, he didn't really say," Malfoy explained as candidly as he could.

"Is that really the best you can do?" Harry pestered him further, "Why do you _think_ he wants to speak with me?"

"Probably thinks you're traumatized from walking in on our little sex scene, you short-arse," Draco smirked, "From what I gather, he thinks it's the first time you've ever seen someone smoke a pink cigar."

"Oh shut your pie-hole!"

"Fine, no problem."

"Wait, no, forget that. Go on. What else do you intuit, Malfoy?"

"Well, I've felt like a spare prick at a wedding since you barged in on us," Draco frowned, "Not sure if he thinks you're shaggable but I can tell he fancies you."

"Really? If he fancies me, then, why is he banging you?"

"Didn't really have a choice did he? Unbreakable vow, and all that jazz. In any case, we haven't been to the broom cupboard for well over a month."

"You're really sick, you know that, right? How long had this been going on? Isn't Snape your uncle or something?"

"No! Up until recently, he was my father's friend, you know? He's not my uncle. Where would you get that idea?"

"I don't know. The bond between you two always seemed somewhat familial, discounting the, uh, fellatio."

"We did more than just that, you know. Sev's a big fan of rimming and we've got our end away on more than one occasion."

To Harry, this was just an extra kick in the teeth. He had never expected Snape to be so sexually experienced, let alone with one of his classmates. For all those years, he had always envisioned Severus to be a forsaken virgin who had spent the better part of his life pining over Lily.

Now it was Harry's heart that was broken.

"Merlin, you really are a soft-lad, aren't you?" Draco mused, looking over at his bespeckled classmate.

"I'm not that innocent," Harry said quietly, lost in thought, "What gave you that idea?"

"Sev just always acted as if he had to protect you or something. You're so weak, he's always saying. Well, except that one time he was waling on you in Muggle Studies. How is your backside by the way? Having trouble sitting down?" Malfoy teased him puckishly.

"It's been well over a month since that incident, Malfoy."

"So it has. So it has. Well, for old times' sake, don't you think you ought to pay the headmaster a visit? He told me to tell you he wants to see you in his rooms at nine o'clock Hallowe'en night."

"In his rooms?"

"Don't get too excited. To him, you're just a teddy bear. Ha! Believe me, there's no way he'd suck you off. Not after the look on your face –"

Without even bothering telling Draco to shut it, Harry stormed out of the Great Hall, a bitten russet apple in hand. Pitching the piece of fruit over the viaduct into the abyss below, he rushed to the dungeons entrance, cussing the whole way. Sitting down on the stone steps, he tried to take a deep breath, and failed miserably. He reached up to touch his face and noticed his greying beard was growing back, and quickly righted it with another swig of de-aging potion.

Harry certainly regretted coming back now. The fact that Snape and Draco were fuck buddies was certainly a piece of information he could have gone without knowing for the rest of his life. He would have preferred thinking Severus hated him to finding out that all the while he was literally sleeping with the enemy. What could be worse?

Sometimes Harry just came to the dungeon stairs and sat there, strangely hoping Snape would walk by on his way to and from other parts of the castle. Not once had he run into him since that upsetting September day. Part of Harry wanted to snog his face off like he had wanted to when he first ventured back in time, but another part of him wanted to hex Severus into oblivion.

All of a sudden, a strange barn owl flew by and dropped a small scroll into Harry's lap. He quickly opened it, not knowing what to expect.

The unaddressed parchment read:

_DM has just informed me that he spoke with you this afternoon. As such, I expect to see you on All Hallows Eve at the locale he indicated. It is imperative that I speak with you. Circumstances have changed._

_Take heed: This message will self-destruct._

And with that, the yellowed paper burst into flames in between Harry's hands, causing him to cry out.

"Bugger! Severus Snape, you evil motherfucker!"


	7. The Lonely Me

Chapter Seven

**The Lonely Me**

"Potter. Look at me," Severus spoke gravely, staring intently at the green-eyed boy sitting across from him in his private study.

_Look…at…me._

"I've heard that before," Harry murmured without thinking.

"What?" Snape retorted, a look of sheer confusion on his face.

"Happy Hallowe'en, I said," the Gryffindor fibbed, watching the candles flicker in the darkness of the headmaster's dungeon rooms.

"That's not what I heard you say," his former professor remarked queerly, "Not that it matters at all. No, Potter, I did not call you hear tonight for you to vent your spleen, but rather that I might speak to you concerning a very pressing matter."

"And what would that be? Your break-up with Malfoy?" Harry commented nastily.

"The Wizarding War," Snape ignored him, "And your role in it, Mr. Potter. I trust that you, in your infinite narcissism, have not forgotten you are, after all, the Chosen One."

"I have to die, apparently, I know," Harry rolled his eyes, eager to broach more erotic subjects, "Voldemort has to kill me, because my scar is a horcrux."

"Professor Dumbledore told you this before his death?" Severus was clearly flabbergasted, "I had no idea."

"Yeah, well," Harry rattled on evasively, "We all knew it had to be leading up to something, didn't we?"

"Was that all Albus told you?" Snape inquired angrily, "I should have suspected he had been feeding you information all the while."

"I know things," Harry blurt out.

"What _things_?" Severus intoned menacingly.

The two wizards stared at each other, the antagonism between them rising.

"Since when have you become a skilled Occlumens?" Snape asked softly.

"I believe it was you who taught me Occlumency, sir."

"I was under the impression I taught you absolutely nothing in those so-called lessons," Severus snapped accusingly, "If that is indeed true, you've been holding out on me."

"Well, why shouldn't I have been? And why should I tell you anything? I can't believe you would deign to shag Draco Malfoy."

Groaning exasperatingly, Snape turned away.

"I'm not proud of that, Potter. As a Death Eater and spy, I have had to do things in my life that are truly horrific. But I really don't see why you should care about my intimate encounters. Rest assured, however, it was all a means to an end. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I'm only sorry your virgin ears and eyes had to bear witness to it."

"So, he forced himself on you, basically?"

"It is not that simple, Potter. As I'm sure you've heard, I made a promise to Narcissa. In retrospect, the vow was perhaps a little too all-encompassing. So, yes, it was under the pain of death that I 'deigned to shag Draco Malfoy.' Merlin forgive me."

"Merlin might forgive you. Not sure if I can though," Harry grunted, still seething with raw ire.

"Save me the histrionics, Potter. But let's backtrack, shall we? Obviously you knew to trust me because of something Professor Dumbledore told you. Now, dare I ask how he was able to sway you?"

"Actually, he didn't really tell me anything," Harry admitted.

"Liar!" Snape hissed.

"I do know, though, that you didn't want to kill him. You were Dumbledore's man through and through."

Severus shook his head unbelievingly and let out a loud humph.

"Dumbledore's man through and through, my arse!" he mumbled to himself.

Now it was Harry's turn to be confused.

"Someone has obviously been feeding you information, you impertinent little twit. However, I'd bet my broomstick that you don't have the whole story. The true story."

"I bet you I do."

"I can tell you already, you do not, Potter! If you don't believe me, come, then, I will show you the life and lies of Albus Dumbledore!"

Snape grabbed Harry by the cuff of the neck and and manhandled him over to his personal pensieve, glowing blue in the shadowy corner of his study.

"Watch. And learn. I will not be providing a replay," Severus said snidely, thrusting Harry's head into the azure liquids of the pensieve.

At that moment, Harry thought he knew what he was about to see. The Prince's Tale. Lily. Snape's noble decision to look out for him. Harry thought he had seen it all before.

Although Snape was ignorant to what would come afterwards, he was right about one thing. Harry hadn't seen anything yet.

Immersed in the former Potions Master's memories, Harry quickly realized that this was no childhood love story. This was not the same memory Severus had given to him on his deathbed. This was something entirely different.


	8. Never Seen

_WARNING_: This chapter is sexually explicit and alludes to non-con.

Chapter Eight

**Never Seen**

"I suppose you're wondering, Mr. Snape, why I have summoned you here?" a familiar, gentle voice echoed in the nebulous liquids of the pensieve. Finally, the scene came into focus.

The year was circa 1975. A far more youthful Severus looked about fifteen years old. His features were unmistakably childlike: soft pink lips, large glittering black eyes and milky white skin. On the other hand, Albus Dumbledore barely looked any younger than he did the day he died. Wrinkles had already ravaged his elderly physiognomy and cataracts clouded his benevolent blue eyes.

"Actually, sir, after all these years, I just kind of go with it," Severus sounded strangely defeated.

"Well, I've noticed you spend a great deal of time with Miss Evans. I can't help wondering if…."

"Oh no, no, I mean…she's brilliant. And we're friends. But no," Snape stuttered timidly.

"Forgive me. I was merely being curious. But enough chitchat…"

Watching this historical scene unfold, Harry could not help but to experience a sense of déjà-vu. Had he not, on at least one occasion, found himself in a similar awkward situation discussing his non-existent love life with the late headmaster?

"Professor Binns tells me you have been woolgathering in his class instead of taking down notes, as of late. May I inquire as to why, Mr. Snape?"

"History of Magic does not interest me. I much prefer Potions, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Besides, the way Professor Binns teaches the class makes it so mind-numbing. All his information is outdated. I don't really see the point, sir."

"Really?" Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow, "Well, I apologize, Mr. Snape, if the teaching standards at Hogwarts do not meet with your high expectations. But I am afraid I must impress upon you the importance of paying attention in class, whether the syllabus interests you or not."

"Meaning?" Severus asked in a small voice.

"Professor Binns, seeing as he is unable in his spectral form, has asked me to discipline you for your inattention in his class, Mr. Snape."

"I don't believe you," Snape said softly, "I bet Professor Binns didn't even –"

"I assure you, he did, Mr. Snape. And you will accept your punishment, or risk expulsion from this school."

"What?" Severus was outraged, "How exactly is daydreaming in History of Magic grounds for expulsion?"

"I am aware of your fascination with the dark arts, as well, Mr. Snape."

"So? There isn't any rule against having interests in what some might deem unsavoury branches of magic, is there?"

"That depends, Mr. Snape. On the extent of one's involvement in certain, shall we say, extracurricular activities? I think you know what I'm talking about, young man."

"I swear I never … I'm not a Death Eater, sir!"

"Hmm. See, the trouble is, Mr. Snape, I never asked you if you were a Death Eater. The fact that you brought it up only points to your guilt."

"But you said –"

"You may, as I said before, avoid expulsion at the present time, by submitting yourself to my correction."

Severus swallowed, hard. He was obviously frightened by this prospect. Harry didn't exactly understand why. Punishment from Dumbledore usually meant a reprimand and a lemon drop.

"So, what will it be then? Detention? Points deduction?" Snape wondered aloud.

"While those penalties might be suitable for other students, Mr. Snape, you know very well that your wilfulness requires quite another type of chastisement."

"The blood quill then?" Severus sounded desperate to avoid whatever specific sentence Dumbledore had in mind.

"I would never subject you to such a barbaric punishment, my child. You see, despite your misbehaviour, I quite like you, Mr. Snape. You have been very wicked, but you are not a bad boy."

"What are you going to do to me then?" the pensive Slytherin whispered.

"The question is not what I am going to do to you, Mr. Snape, but rather what you are going to do for me. A favour, of sorts."

"A favour?"

"On your knees, Mr. Snape."

"No, please."

"Obey me at once," Dumbledore's blue eyes had steeled over.

Harry could not believe it.

"Absolutely not!" Severus cried, his teenaged voice cracking.

"You will fall to your knees, Mr. Snape, or risk finding yourself across mine."

"Smack me then! Anything but –"

"It would give me no pleasure to strike you, my dear boy. Have you ever known me to thrash my favourite pupils?"

"Then what would you –"

"I am sure you would not want to suffer the embarrassment of shedding your garments in front of your headmaster and presenting yourself to me."

By the disturbed look on his face, Harry could tell that Severus was either having a flashback or a prophetic mental picture. Although it went against everything he had ever thought to be true about Dumbledore and Snape's relationship, Harry imagined it had something to do with Albus' elder wand sounding out Severus' back entrance.

"I'm waiting, Mr. Snape. What will it be?"

Sinking to his knees, Severus buried his face in Albus' open robes.

"That's a good lad," Dumbledore crooned, stroking Snape's silky black mop of hair.

Down below, Harry thought he heard Severus quietly sobbing, if that was even possible.

* * *

"You disgust me," said Dumbledore, and Harry once again experienced a sense of déjà-vu, having seen this episode played out before, "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?"

Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.

"Hide them all, then," he croaked, "Keep her – them – safe. Please."

"And what will you give me in return, Severus?"

"In – in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, "Anything -"

This is where the memory had ended the last time. Harry quickly discovered it had been truncated to keep it PG.

"Anything but to submit myself to the demeaning treatment you subjected to me as a boy, headmaster."

"I am afraid that is just not possible, Severus. See, I'm rather backed up since you left me hanging last time, my dear boy. If you want Lily's family to live, you will disrobe, and present yourself to me, as before."

"Never," Severus' voice was raspy, "Never again." Tears silently filled his eyes.

"So you've made your decision, then," Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow, and straightened his robes, "Pity."

* * *

"I thought … you were going … to keep her… safe."

"She and James put their faith in the wrong person," said Dumbledore, "Rather like you, Severus. Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?"

Snape's breathing was shallow.

"Her boy survives," said Dumbledore.

With a tiny jerk of the head, Snape seemed to flick off an irksome fly.

"He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and colour of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?"

"DON'T!" bellowed Snape, "Gone! Dead!"

"Is this remorse, Severus?"

"I wish…wish I were dead."

"And what use would that be to anyone?" said Dumbledore coldly, "If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear."

Snape seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore's words appeared to take a long time to reach him.

"What - what do you mean?"

"You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son."

"He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone - "

"The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does."

There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing.

At last he said, "Very well. But never - never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear – especially Potter's son – I want your word!"

"My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?" Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Snape's ferocious, anguished face, "If you insist."

"THE BEST OF ME?" Snape raged, "What is that supposed to mean? You are the bane of my existence, you crusty old pervert! And your abuse has TAKEN the best of me. And dispensed with it. Forever. Make no mistake: there is nothing left kneeling before you, but the empty shell of a man!"

Harry suddenly noticed that Snape was once again on his knees in front of the headmaster.

"Nonsense, Severus. You know very well you're the best blow job I've ever had."

"And what if I say no?" Snape baulked at the idea of once again becoming Dumbledore's dirty little secret.

"If you decline to serve me in this manner, Severus, I am afraid I will have to find a replacement. And you know my weakness for young boys with black hair."

"You wouldn't dare! He's Harry bloody Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world! For Merlin's sake, he's only an infant!"

"Ah, but you underestimate my cunning, Severus. How many lives have I ruined already, hm? How many lives have been _lost_?"

At that moment, both Snape and Harry's eyes widened with the harrowing understanding of Dumbledore's treachery.

This revelation of deception was far from 'almost nothing'. It was pretty much everything.

Harry couldn't – wouldn't – believe it.

If he ever got back to the present day, he would never be able to look at Albus Severus the same way again.

* * *

"No," Harry mumbled, as if waking from a terrifying nightmare, "No!"

"Yes," Severus responded firmly, guiding Harry away from his pensieve and back over to his desk, where both wizards sat down, facing each other.

"Dumbledore… neglected to protect my parents just because you wouldn't have sex with him?"

"That's the ugly and unadulterated truth, yes," Snape said softly, looking at the floor.

"You're right," Harry conceded, knowing deep down that it was true, "That's a memory…I hadn't seen before."

"I hadn't thought so," Severus said in a low voice, "Thank you for viewing it without whinging…excessively."

"I'm sorry, for what he did to you, sir," Harry tried to sound sincere, although he was still trying to get over the shock of what he had witnessed.

Out of the blue, Snape pounded violently on the desk, making Harry jump.

"Well, that's awfully big of you, Potter! Considering I'm the reason your parents are dead! Don't you see, you stupid, stupid boy? If I had only let the headmaster have his way with me one more time that day, your parents would still be alive?"

"I'm sorry," Harry tripped over his words, "I just…don't see it that way, sir."

"I apologize for my outburst," Severus said quickly, collecting himself, "It just astonishes me that you would so readily give me a free pass. It goes without saying that I've failed your mother. So I'm not quite sure how I've managed not to let you down."

"Don't worry about it, sir. I'm sure I would have done the same thing."

"I must ask you, then, Potter… did Dumbledore ever touch you? Did he ever force you –"

"No," Harry quickly cut him off, "Never."

Snape leaned back in his chair, with something like a victorious smile playing on his lips.

"Good," Severus said softly, "That's very good, Potter."

"But at what cost?" Harry was now the angry one, "You didn't have to do that."

"Of course, I did, Potter. Don't be ridiculous. Ask me again now, why I deigned to shag Draco Malfoy."

"Why… why did you? And why did you chose to stay on at Hogwarts as Potions Master after the way Dumbledore treated you?"

"Like I said before, undoubtedly someone has been feeding you information, Potter. Much of it biased and wrong. I never, for instance, engaged in carnal relations with your mother –"

"And when did I ever suggest that?" Harry snapped.

"I do believe you called me a 'MoFo' some weeks back."

"But how did you –"

"Two-way speakers, Potter."

"It's just a vulgar muggle expression, sir. I never meant that you –"

"I wasn't born yesterday, you stupid boy. You have to admit it was a rather interesting choice of words. Now let me finish. You have been wrong about a lot of things lately Mr. Potter, but you have been right on one count, all this time."

"And what's that?" Harry gulped audibly, daring to meet Severus' intense bituminous gaze.

"Ever since your mother -" Snape choked, weighing his words, "left this earth… Everything I've done… everything I do… I do it for you. Not for Albus Dumbledore, or Draco Malfoy, or the Dark Lord. But for you and your thick skull, Potter. It's all for you."


	9. Unclean

Chapter Nine

**Unclean**

"Mr. Potter, what …what are you doing?" Severus backed away from Harry's open arms, "Unhand me at once, Potter! I don't need your pity hug."

But Harry moved to embrace Snape anyway, well aware of the risks.

"I'll put you in a body bind, you stupid boy. Get off!" Severus repeated, although he didn't even sound that annoyed.

"It seems _I _am the one who has _you_ in a body bind, professor," Harry commented with adorable insolence, "Besides, I'm only returning the favour. As you'll recall, this isn't the first time we've found ourselves in such an awkward position."

"I rather thought we had both endured enough discomfiture for one day," Snape groaned, carefully untangling himself from Harry's unsolicited hold, "You really must learn not to wear your heart on your sleeve. No good can come of this."

"This?" Harry queried curiously, "And what exactly is _this_? Our relationship, you mean?"

"I am not having a relationship with you, Potter," Severus remarked callously, "You're a student, and a physically undeveloped and intellectually mediocre one at that. As for me, I am a very troubled, nasty old man. That said, I have no desire to join the ranks of child-molesting headmasters, thank you very much."

"I am not a child," Harry responded quietly, knowing it to be absolutely true, "You wouldn't be doing anything wrong."

"Potter, it does not matter to me that you are of age. It will never matter to me how old you are; you will never be anything more than a disobedient little boy to me," Snape commented stonily, "Speaking of which, I do believe it's well past your bedtime."

"You can't be serious," Harry sounded defeated.

"Have you ever known me to kid?" Severus quirked an eyebrow.

"Listen, I know it's none of my business, sir, though I suppose you sort of made it my business by showing me those memories…. All the same, you've got nothing to be ashamed of, professor. None of that was your fault. You're not some pervert or bad person."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Potter, for that enlightening bit of wisdom," Snape said silkily, "Though it is somewhat ironic that you are absolving me of perversion only so that I might accept your invitation to sin."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"You really are impossible. I don't know why I even bother sometimes."

Snape turned away for a brief moment. If Harry didn't know any better, the old ogre almost seemed hurt. And then…

"I don't understand why you bother with me either, Potter. But rest assured, I know you're up to something, and I'm going to find out what. Rumour has it you've been sighted outside Hogwarts grounds, in the Forest of Dean with your little friends. Bet you didn't know I was aware of that, did you?"

For the first time that evening, Harry looked truly afraid. Did Snape know his secret? Did the headmaster know he had travelled through time to engage in passionate make-up sex with him? Did Severus know all of this and was denying him anyway?

"You're to return directly to your dormitory, Mr. Potter," Severus steered Harry towards the door, "I will be commencing my evening rounds in approximately twenty minutes and Merlin help you if I catch you out of bed at the witching hour."

"No, wait!"

"Consider yourself officially ejected from my rooms, Potter. Goodnight."

* * *

_Well, fuck. That was somewhat disappointing_, Harry thought to himself as he meandered through the dungeons, in no real hurry to return to Gryffindor tower.

Maybe coming clean with Snape was the only way into his abnormally tight robes.

Severus had said he was physically undeveloped for his age, which was true. Maybe aging a few years, or ten, overnight wouldn't hurt?

Impulsively, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of what he thought to be aging potion. A few swigs later, he realized his grave error in judgement.

A quick trip to the men's room confirmed it. He had consumed a copious amount of DE-aging potion and was officially eleven years old all over again.

Snape had made it quite clear that he was not a paedophile, and so this somewhat impeded Harry's plans for seduction.

No matter. Harry could just break into Slughorn's stores in the morning and rectify the situation, right?

Wrong.

Around the corner came a fuming Severus Snape, ready to castigate an errant first-year pupil whose only crime was finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"You! Child! Turn around when I'm speaking to you! Twenty points from…"

"Gryffindor?" Harry ventured quietly, not wanting to show his face, 'I'm in Gryffindor, sir. Go ahead and take the points. I'll go straight back to bed."

"I know that voice," Snape observed thoughtfully, "Hmm. And I've seen this all before. Yes."

"What do you m—"

"Potter. Turn around, you stupid boy. How you got your hands on a time-turner, I have no idea. Dumbledore, I wager."

Severus turned a prepubescent Harry around and summarily pulled the time-turner out from the front of his robes.

"Aha. Yes, just as I suspected. It's back to first year with you, baby Potter. Rest assured you will be duly penalized for your foolish actions upon your return. Let's say I give you a fifteen second head start, shall we?"

"No! Sir! You misunderstand!" Harry scrambled to explain, but before he knew it he was falling backwards through time yet again.

Exactly fifteen seconds after he landed feet-first in 1991, a slightly younger looking Snape came swooping down on him like a vulture, plucking the time-turner from his scrawny neck and confiscating it for safekeeping.

"POTTER!" Severus admonished, and Harry jumped, having forgotten how scary it was to have Snape's dark figure towering over him, "A time-turner? I could have you expelled for the possession of it alone! Time-turners are controlled objects in the wizarding world. Of course, you would have known that had you ever cracked open a book since you've started at Hogwarts! Where have you come from? More importantly, from what hour? Merlin forbid, from what month? What year?"

"If I told you that, sir, I'd have to Obliviate you," Harry said softly, meeting Severus' arcane glare.

"Very well," Snape finally said, bemused, "I'd like to see you try."


	10. Tick Tock Pt 1

Chapter Ten

**Tick Tock**

Part I

"Can we go somewhere private, then, sir?" Harry asked seriously, "I wouldn't want to Obliviate more than one person. It might be hard tracking them all down."

"Cheek, Mr. Potter," Severus chided uncertainly, "Follow me to my classroom if you must, and you can start serving your two weeks of detention tonight for your inveterate rule-breaking and back-talk."

"Perfect," Harry breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you, Professor Snape."

"Either you are a masochist or a very insolent boy, Potter. I would advise you stop talking before I prolong your punishment."

"That wouldn't exactly work very well if I were a masochist, though, now would it?" Harry smirked blithely.

Snape seemed slightly taken aback by the first-year student's informed rebuttal. Both wizards walked in silence the rest of the way to the Potions Master's laboratory.

"Very well, Potter, start scrubbing," Severus ordered, pointing to a set of dirty cauldrons in the far corner, "I would tell you not to use magic, but we both know you're incapable of the simplest of charms."

"But sir, you're wrong… that's not correct. I am not as inexperienced as you think I am. I need to speak with you to explain. I need my time turner back. I can't risk running into myself!"

"Good grief, Potter!" Snape groaned, "If you're so _experienced,_ as you claim to be, perhaps you should have thought of the complications of time travel before you decided to meddle with that gadget. Come here, then, you stupid boy. Take a seat and tell me what it's going to take to get you out of this fix and I will tell you how many house points I will be deducting accordingly."

Harry didn't whinge at this threat. Severus could barely believe his good fortune. The boy seemed almost, dare he say, _compliant_!

"You might want to take a seat too, sir," Harry whispered, staring at the tabletop in front of him, "This is going to be a lot to take in."

Despite himself, Snape looked at the Boy-Who-Lived thoughtfully.

"Potter," Severus intoned softly, taking a seat, "If I find out you're lying to me about where you've been with that time-turner, rest assured you will pay."

"I promise you, Professor Snape, I'm not playing a joke at you. It might seem that way at first, but really, I'm not," Harry stumbled over his words while Snape continued to eye him pensively, "There is no easy way to say this, but…like I'm sure you've gathered, I'm not _from_ this time. I'm still out of sync, see."

"So you say," Severus remarked wryly, "Go on."

"I've come from after the war, sir."

"What war, Potter? Merlin forbid you went back that far."

Harry blanched, remembering that the Second Wizarding War had not even started yet.

"It's not from the past that I've come, sir. It's from the future. Twice over, in fact. There's to be a war, beginning a few years from now. Voldemort comes back to power. In my time, I'm quite old. Nearly your age…"

Snape cast him a dark glare either at the use of the Dark Lord's name or at the insinuation that he was, as Harry so eloquently put it, quite old.

"It may have escaped you, Potter, but using a time turner does not affect one's own physical or mental age. Therefore, I know you are lying," Severus sniffed noncommittally, "Ten points from Gryffindor."

"De-aging potion," Harry explained himself, "It's because I took de-aging potion. That's how I got myself into this mess in the first place. See, several years after the war, I used the time turner to go back to my seventh year. I was taking de-aging potion so that I would look like a teenager again, to fit in. Tonight…or rather one night years from now, I accidentally took …er…take too much of it, and you catch me out of bed after hours and think that I've actually come from first year by accident, and so you send me back."

Severus looked at him quizzically.

"That is quite simply incredible, Potter."

Harry brightened, "Incredible, sir?"

"Yes, incredible, Potter. As in implausible. As in I don't believe a word you're saying. Another ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry's smile quickly faded.

"What can I do to convince you, professor?"

"Convince me?" Snape snorted, "I'm not sure you can, you stupid boy. You say you survive this war that is to come. You of all people. _You _survive?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Harry joked, "I am the boy-who-lived, after all."

"Incredible," Severus repeated, with something like relief coming out in his voice, "Tell me one thing, Potter. Humour me and I'll abstain from taking points from Gryffindor for the time being. Why do you go back to your seventh year at Hogwarts? Does the war end by then?"

"No, sir," Harry said quietly, "My seventh year at Hogwarts is at the height of the war. In fact, the first time around I did not even attend that year because, well, for lack of a better explanation I had better things to do."

"Whatever becomes of you then, Potter? A Hogwarts dropout! I can't say I'm overly surprised, although… I did think you might at least scrape by. What with the favouritism shown to you by all your professors, save me, you can't even graduate? That's somewhat pathetic, even for you."

"Actually, sir, I'm currently head of the Auror department. Well, I will be. Not that I expect you to believe that or anything."

Snape rolled his eyes. He was, after all, conversing with an eleven-year old boy, even if he did seem to be getting taller every minute…

"With such a cosy position, I'm surprised you even bother to venture back in time at all, then, Potter. Let alone to the 'height of a war' that ought to have killed you. Let me guess. In your infinite wisdom, you thought you could meddle with time in order to save someone from the carnage. I'm curious. Who do you go back for?"

"I'm not sure I should answer that question, sir."

Severus ignored him.

"Bless your little Gryffindor heart, you probably went back to save Ron Weasley, is that it? Or Professor Dumbledore?" Snape sneered.

"No, Ron doesn't die in the war and by that time, Dumbledore's already dead."

"Wait, Albus dies?" Severus suddenly seemed interested.

Harry didn't know whether to be excited or anxious at this sudden reversal.

"Does this mean you believe me?" he asked seriously.

"No, Potter," Snape spoke in a tone that edged on irony, "I am merely being curious."

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry explained, "As you can understand, it was…will be a very upsetting time for me."

"Of course. You being his Golden Boy," Severus said derisively, "You still didn't tell me who you go back for. Not that it's even possible for you to save them."

"I go back for you, professor," Harry admitted after a long silence, "I'm sorry, but you die…"

Snape's eyes widened and he let out an uncharacteristic gasp.

"What? Let me guess, you don't believe me?" Harry wondered aloud.

"I don't believe my eyes," Severus said softly, looking a now adult Harry Potter up and down.


	11. Tick Tock Pt 2

Chapter Eleven

**Tick Tock **

Part II

"How on earth did you manage –" Snape began, but he was cut off by the sound of a brawl in the hallway.

"I already exp–" the grown-up Harry Potter also found himself interrupted, much to his dismay. He had been waiting for this moment for what had seemed like years, and now the Potions Master was more concerned about catching misbehaving students red-handed? Some things never changed.

"Hold that thought," Severus put up his hand to silence his peer, as he walked over to his classroom door and leaned into it, listening closely.

"Let that be a lesson to you, Harry Hoofter!" a familiar prepubescent voice spat acerbically, followed by the sound of faint crying from another young boy.

With that, Snape swept out of the room, his wrath filling the hallway like a tempest.

"DRACO MALFOY! " Severus bellowed after the blond-haired boy who was quickly making his escape, "IF I EVER -"

Back in the Potions laboratory, Harry pressed his ear to the door, but quickly realized he wanted the whole picture, not just the soundtrack. Failing that, he got down on his stomach and peered out of the sizeable crack that allowed the door to swing easily over the dungeon floor.

"Professor Snape?" a small voice faltered, a voice the adult Harry Potter recognized as his own. The eleven-year old boy was crumpled on the floor, his nose bleeding.

Severus turned to face the young Harry Potter, who to his horror and disbelief had just been gaybashed by Lucius' boy. Not knowing what else to do, he knelt down and immediately conjured a tissue and vial of blood replenishing potion. Directing Harry to pinch his nose with the kleenex to clot the blood, he administered the tonic.

"Is it …. br…broken, sir?" the first-year stammered, still reeling from what had just happened to him.

"No," Snape responded tersely. Noting that the blood had stopped flowing, he took away the handkerchief.

"Good, okay…" Harry noted shyly, "I'll be all right then. Thank you, sir."

Severus stared at him, dumbfounded at the ordinarily foolhardy child's meekness.

"Potter, wait," Snape stopped him, resting his large hand on Harry's shoulder. Reluctantly, the boy turned around to face him, expecting to be reprimanded.

"Did I do something wrong?" Harry asked worriedly, "I swear I didn't start the fight, professor. I'm not even…. I'm not even, you know, I'm not gay, sir."

"Potter, you listen to me," Severus growled, "There is no excuse—"

"But I'm awfully sorry, sir!" Harry protested.

Snape ignored this, and continued in a calmer voice, "As I was saying, there is no excuse for what was done to you this evening and it is incumbent on me to report it, regardless of my personal feelings of resen—"

"No, please," Harry's heartfelt supplication seemed more like a simple request.

"Po— Harry. You might be a thorn in my side, but by all other accounts you are…a good boy," Severus grimaced, "I can't allow you to be bullied in such a manner. It goes against everything –"

"You think I'm…good? Sorry sir, but… don't you hate me? "

"I never said that. There is a very thin line between –" Snape spoke hastily and then caught himself, "It wouldn't matter either way. It wouldn't matter if I thought you were the nastiest little twit on the planet, I've still got your back, Potter."

"You mean even if I were like Malfoy?"

"Yes, but you're not Draco," Severus observed thoughtfully, cupping the raven-haired boy's face, gently, only for a moment, and then letting go.

Harry blushed and looked down at his shoes. This reconciliation with Snape was affecting him to the point that, to his horror, new tears had started to form in his glossy green eyes.

"Sorry," Harry choked, "Normally I'm not such a nancy boy."

Wanting to cuff Potter for referring to himself using such a self-deprecating term, Severus had to forcibly redirect his muscles to wrap his arms around the schoolboy in a tight but transitory hug. The Potions Master softly muttered something to his student, but the adult Harry Potter could not make out what it was.

"Take care, Mr. Potter!" Snape called after him severely as the first-year scampered off, "I expect to see you in Potions tomorrow in one piece, do you hear? No excuses."

Seeing that Severus was making his way back to the Potions classroom, the grown-up Harry quickly got up off the floor. Although he was deeply touched by what he had just witnessed, he was even more confused. He had no memory of this incident. It pained him, but he knew what needed to be done.

After Snape had closed his classroom door behind him, he turned and jumped as if he saw a ghost when he noticed Harry was still standing there, as he would look twenty-odd years later.

"Did I do right by you, Potter?" Severus eyed him guardedly.

"We might have a problem there, professor," Harry admitted carefully, "See…just now… that never happened. Well, I suppose it did, but I don't remember it at all."

"I see," Snape nodded solemnly, "What would you have me do?"

"Obliviate me, I suppose," Harry guessed, "And not mention a word of this to anybody."

"Done and done," Severus assured him, "Did you really think I could let you go on thinking I was your personal saviour? No good could come of that."

"I suppose not," Harry reluctantly agreed, knowing there was no other way.

"Am I to assume that I will have no recollection of this evening either?" Snape wondered aloud, his eyes glinting strangely.

"I'm afraid not," Harry admitted cautiously, "I couldn't let you go on thinking I was a good little boy who comes out of this all in one piece, now could I?"

"That is very true," Snape concurred without contest, "But first, I understand you came back for something, Potter."

"Someone, yes," Harry whispered and his breath hitched.

Severus nodded, and gave Harry one of his rare half-smiles.

"And what would you have me do?"


End file.
